


so won't you hold on a little longer

by anniebibananie (alindy)



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11430786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alindy/pseuds/anniebibananie
Summary: Having sex with Benvolio is the cheapest stress relief she knows. That's all it comes down to, really. That's all there is to it.a.k.a Ros & Ben sleep with each other to forget their problems and don't realize they're falling in love in the process.





	so won't you hold on a little longer

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this quote: “Not all love is gentle. Sometimes it’s gritty and dirty and possessive, sometimes it’s not supposed to be careful or soft at all. Sometimes it feels like teeth." — Azra T.
> 
> I don't write a lot of smut, but something about this quote really inspired me. I hope you enjoy!

The first time they fuck it’s hard and fast. Her and Escalus had finally given up whatever thing they had been trying to hold onto, and Benvolio is upset about something they’re decidedly _not_ talking about. Which is exactly what she wants, actually. Exactly what she needs.

Rosaline doesn’t want to know Benvolio Montague’s problems, she just wants to fuck him. Because she knows he won’t be safe with her or coddle her. He’ll be all teeth and grit and fire. They’d been contrary and fighting for as long as they've known each other; why would anything change now?

“Fuck,” he curses into the crook of her neck.

He stands between her legs where she’s pushed on top of his dresser, her back flush against the wall. His teeth bite down her neck, stopping right above her breast and sucking a mark there.

“So astute, Montague,” she says breathily. His hands roam over her hips, over her back, _everywhere._ “We are fucking.”

He bites hard down on her clavicle, and she arches her back into him with a hiss. “I hate you,” he says as he tugs her legs around his waist and hoists her up. It’s only three steps from the dresser to the bed, but for a second she feels absolutely weightless.

“Ditto.” She falls back onto the mattress, and his mouth burns a trail up her thigh. Kissing its way slowly closer to her center. Right when his mouth hovers over where she wants him the most, he purposefully redirects to her navel. “ _God,_ I hate you.”

Benvolio looks up at her from between her thighs—hair skewed, roguish smirk in place, eyes glistening. “You sure about that?” he says huskily.

His mouth finds her clit, and anything she thinks to say is gone. Perfect.

* * *

Rosaline is determined to just forget the feel of Benvolio’s mouth on hers, the way his eyes shut in relief, the feel of his labored breaths against her shoulder. It’s the closest to retaining normalcy she can manage, so she shifts it away somewhere safe and never to be touched again.

Then two weeks later they’re at a club when she spots Escalus kissing Stella in a corner. It wasn’t _them_ that was wrong at all, it was _her—_ Rosaline _._ Her chest aches. The music is suddenly too loud, and her friends look too happy. Isabella catches where she’s looking and sends her a worried look, and that just makes everything worse.

Turning away, she finds Benvolio at the bar. There’s something a little bit off about him, too, but she’s certainly not going to ask about it. That was the deal the first time, and she’ll be damned to break from tradition—don’t talk about the problems, don’t talk about anything at _all_ —just release.

Her mouth is dangerously close to his ear when she finally arrives by his side, and his hand stabilizes her on her lower back when she wobbles on her toes. “Furthest bathroom. Five minutes.”

She can feel the way shock reverberates through his body, and she almost wants to see it on his face. His eyebrow arched, his mouth slightly ajar—but she turns away and walks to where she told him to meet her instead. She’s good at being single-minded, compartmentalizing.

The bathroom is a single stall. It’s much too dirty for her liking, but she’s trying to be the version of herself that doesn’t care about things like that. A more carefree Rosaline who doesn’t hold onto everything so tightly she crushes them in her palms and leaves the dust to fall at her ankles.

When a knock cracks against the door three times, she feels her chest release with a breath. “I’m in here,” she says, testing.

“I goddamn hope so.” Benvolio’s voice is teasing, but she can sense the current of something else underneath his words.

The second after she pulls him through the door and locks it, she’s slamming him back against it and attacking his mouth. A part of her wants to curse him for having such plush lips, for his mouth fitting perfectly with her own. When his tongue licks across the line of her mouth, she opens up to him.

She’s only wearing a tank top, and he pushes the sleeves down and greedily grabs onto her breasts. When he tweaks her nipple, she bites into his lip in surprise. “Fuck,” he says as he pulls back, but there’s a darkness in his eyes as he watches her face. “Do we need to talk about something?”

The small space is already warm, and she can feel her curls nearly sticking to the back of her neck. “Why would we do that?” she says with a quirk of her brow.

He nods, like that was all he needed to hear, before twisting her around and slamming her back into the door. There’s a brief pain to it, but it just reminds her why this is the perfect release. Benvolio isn’t worried about cradling her like something might break her, he knows exactly how much she can take.

Urgently, she tucks her hands into his hair and pulls him back to her. One of his hands finds her hip, the other goes back to her breast. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth and sucks before bending down, trailing his tongue around her nipple.

It’s almost enough, but thoughts are still swirling in the back of Rosaline’s mind. She needs more of him to take away the anxiety, the questions racing through her body. _Why?_ is erased with the swirl of his tongue. _What did I do?_ forgotten with his trailing finger and him unzipping her jeans. _Am I not enough?_ obliterated the second he slips a finger between her folds.

“Ben,” she gasps as her forehead hits his shoulder.

His hands stills for the briefest of moments before the rough pads of his fingers continue moving over her, teasing. He ghosts over her clit, and she arches into him. All she can think about is how much she needs him, how her body is pulled to him.

When he finally rubs over her clit, she’s thankful for the club music blaring outside of the bathroom. Her moan is loud and forceful, and she can feel the smirk he’s sending her way. He slips another finger into her, still moving over her clit with his thumb, and she damn near falls apart then and there.

Her mouth bites into the flesh of his shoulder involuntarily, just to have something to ground her. As the rhythm of his pulses speeds up, her body arching into him, she tastes the sweat of him on her tongue. There’s a streak of blue paint behind his left ear that she only now notices, and for some reason she pushes up to suck the lobe of his ear next to it.

She was already wet when they started and the anticipation had been steadily building, so it doesn’t take much longer for her to tighten around his fingers. There’s barely any space between them at all, and when she comes the expletive she mumbles puffs against his ear.

They stand there, his fingers still inside of her, for a few seconds as she recovers. Their mixed breathing is the only sound besides the dull beat of the techno club music. Rosaline’s fingers wrap around Benvolio’s wrist, pulling his hand away from her. Her lips kiss his neck first as he takes a step back before she kisses his pectoral, his stomach, just below his belly button.

When she unzips his jeans, she takes her time pushing them and his underwear down. It’s pay back if nothing less. She trails her fingers over his underwear, feeling his hard length. Only when he groans in exasperation does she finally pull the fabric down.

Wetting her palm, she slides her hand over him. He groans above her and rests his forehead against the door. Looking up, she sees him undone. His eyes are closed and his lip is caught between his teeth, looking even plusher than they felt minutes before. Arousal pools in her stomach again, and she licks his tip before sucking.

“Fuck, _Ros,_ ” he says. And she understands why he paused before. It’s something so unique to hear your name uttered like a curse and a prayer at the same time. Like you’re the single reason another person is falling apart. “Shit.”

It turns her on more to hear it, and if there’s a part of herself that knows there might be something troubling about that, she pushes it far away. All she focuses on right now is the way Benvolio groans louder and louder as she speeds up over his cock. One hand pumping at the base while her mouth takes the rest of him in.

He nearly comes with a sign, and she leaves her mouth curved around him as his dick pulses with the aftershock. Finally, she stands back up and is surprised when he tucks his hand behind her head to pull her in for another quick kiss.

When they pull back, she realizes how _wrecked_ Benvolio looks. His hair is moving in a million different directions and his cheeks are pink. There’s a wild sort of look in his eyes that she realizes she must also have. Belatedly, she tugs up the straps of her shirt.

Her mouth opens and clothes, searching for the perfect thing to say. There doesn’t feel like there is anything to say though, so she gives him a stark nod before slipping out the door. The music is almost loud of enough to erase the taste of him from her mouth and warmth of his body. _Almost._

* * *

It becomes so easy to sleep with him after that. A bad day. A fight with her sister. Stress. The reasons become less important before practically disappearing at all. She’s never known another person’s body like that. She’s never felt like she fit so _well_ with another person’s body before.

She likes knowing parts of him that she knows she shouldn’t. The way he gasps when he comes. How sometimes when she’s riding him he looks at her like she’s a queen and it makes her feel like she could do anything. That he likes when she utters dirty things to him as he goes down on her.

There’s a certain power in knowing it. Not a power _over_ him, just a power—maybe more aptly a strength. Fucking Benvolio leaves her mind clearer and her body more content. Sometimes, when he trails his tongue over her nipple before kissing his way to her core, she thinks that this might be it. Benvolio Montague might actually ruin her for sex beyond him because she’s almost certain she will never have her body worshipped like this again.

And when he releases that first moan as she grasps onto his cock while biting down into his collarbone, she almost thinks he feels the exact same way.

* * *

(Sometimes, they order pizza and talk about nothing at all while they lay half naked in bed. Or they watch shitty reality TV while over-analyzing it before she inevitably straddles him halfway through and they have sex right there on the couch.

One time Rosaline falls asleep in Benvolio’s bed and wakes up to the smell of bacon.

 _It’s just sex,_ Rosaline repeats like a mantra. Benvolio throws his head back with laughter after she makes a stupid pun. _It’s just sex.)_

* * *

His hands are on either side of her head as he pushes into her. Clasping the fabric of his bed spread in her hands, she arches up to him with each thrust. There’s no restraint with the way she releases sound, her throat gritty and her moans relentless.

“Ros, you feel so fucking good,” he says. He ducks forward, planting a rough kiss on her lips. “Come for me, baby,” he whispers after pulling back only a centimeter. “Come for me.”

When she finishes she grasps onto his upper arm so tightly it’s sure to leave bruises.

* * *

“I’m sleeping with Benvolio,” she blurts one day when it finally becomes too much.

Livia is making pancakes, and Rosaline can see her whole body freeze. Isabella looks up from the magazine she’s eyeing at the counter, less surprised than Rosaline would have expected.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Isabella states.

Rosaline sputters. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “There’s been an excess of sexual tension. And you’ve both been absent simultaneously a lot more recently.”

Had she? Rosaline hadn’t thought their sex had affected their friend group at all, but maybe they had been absent a little too much from movie night or going to the bar. Sometimes, the choice between the two meant either adding to the noise in her head or forgetting the noise all together. It was nice to lay in Benvolio’s exceptionally comfortable bed for a few hours and forget about the outside world.

“I did not see this coming,” Livia said. “I mean, like I _did_ , but not in the friends with benefits situation it sounds like you might have going on.”

“Wait,” Rosaline says as she holds up her hands, “you saw this coming at all?”

Livia goes back to flipping pancakes before turning and resting her hip on the counter. “You’re like-minded people.”

“We’re not dating,” Rosaline is quick to rectify.

Livia and Isabella both train her with looks that make even her question it. They didn’t date, though. They didn’t make love. They _fucked._ Hard and fast and without feeling. Well, not relationship-like feelings.

“Okay,” Isabella says, but Rosaline hates the way it doesn’t sound sure.

Rosaline hates the way suddenly she’s unsure, too.

* * *

Confusion is still weighing too heavily on her body when she shows up to Ben’s apartment the next day. The wide smile he sends her way after opening the door tugs at her heart. She doesn’t think about it when she reaches forward to kiss him right away. Oblivion has always been the name of the game, and even problems involving Benvolio himself should be able to be solved with sex.

He hoists her up a second later, and she kisses marks down his neck as he carries them to his bedroom. There’s something possessive about the way she bites into his neck with too much teeth, like she needs him to know something she can’t even name herself.

Her need is too desperate, too furious, for her to take her time. When he yanks her pants off, she feels herself get wetter. She wants to be filled with him. She sits up and pulls her own shirt over her head before pushing him back on the bed. Both of their pants fall to the floor, and Rosaline doesn’t have it in her to wait any longer.

As she lowers herself onto his cock, it feels like the missing parts of her life are coming together. She rests one palm on his chest, the other behind her on his thigh. With every downward movement she grinds against him before pushing up and repeating the gesture. His hands grab at her hips, digging into her waist a little bit.

There’s something wild about her like this, and she knows it. With her hair loose around her and her head thrown back, eyes half-closed, lips parted for a puff of breath every time she takes the full length of him. There’s a simplicity and an undoing that comes with the rhythm of riding him, seeking her own pleasure.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says.

Snapping her eyes open, she sees the way he looks at her. There’s an incredible fondness in his eyes, and while desire courses through him, she sees something else that sets her stomach off-kilter. The words were too soft, too unexpected.

“Shh,” she responds because she’s not sure what else to do.

“Ros.” One of his hands moves off of her hip to find her wrist and circles the sensitive skin. “I love–”

“Fucking me,” she cuts him off, stilling in her pace.

His mouth sits agape. “I…” Brow furrowed, he looks at her like he’s not quite sure what he was going to say either.

And suddenly it doesn’t matter how close she was to feeling release or the way his smile makes her chest tighten, because she can’t _be_ there. Rosaline pulls herself off of him and reaches for her clothes, tugging them haphazardly on. “I have to go.”

“Rosaline,” he says, and she tries to ignore that it almost sounds like a beg, because her heart is already being pulled in too many directions for her to understand.

“Montague,” she warns, looking over her shoulder at him.

His fingers drop, and she tries to ignore the disappointment expanding in her stomach as she leaves.

* * *

It takes her a few minutes to realize she’s not alone in her apartment. As she slams the refrigerator door closed after pulling out a beer, she almost screams when she notices Escalus sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” he says.

Rosaline sets the beer down on the counter before taking a few steps closer. “Hi.”

“I’m just waiting for Isabella to get back.” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “I can leave, though, if you want to be alone or–”

“No.” Rosaline cuts him off with a vigorous shake of her head. “You’re fine.”

“Were you with Ben?”

The all too familiar weight of confusion falls over her shoulders again, and her eyebrows crash together. “What?”

“Mercutio told me…” Escalus trailed off and adjusted his legs on the couch. “You two are sleeping together, aren’t you?”

She wasn’t sure how she felt knowing he knew that. She wasn’t sure how she felt about any of this. It had never been in her plans to sleep with Benvolio Montague more than once. Hell, it hadn’t been in her plans to do it at _all._

What if she could rewind time and take it all back? It would be easier, but then she thought about all those little secrets of him she held so close to his chest. Not just sexual, but the way he liked his pizza and the drinks stacked in his fridge. The way different colors of paint were always flickering across his skin. She didn’t want to take all of that back.

“I am,” she admits. It feels brave and scary, but it also feels right to be honest now after everything.

Escalus nods, maybe a little bit uncomfortable, but not unkind. “We were never going to work out. You and me. It didn’t matter how much I wanted it to.”

She sighs as she slumps onto the arm of the big chair in the corner of the room. “Why? I always thought…”

“Sometimes, I think we thought about it too much. On top of other things, but…” His eyes scan the room like they’re not really there but somewhere else, delving into a memory. He comes back and meets her eyes. “That’s why Stella is good for me, and Ben’s good for you. We balance each other out. Remind each other to think and feel in equal measure.”

“I might have messed it up,” she admits. The image of his stung face after she had called him Montague makes her palms feel clammy.

He scoffs. “ _You_ can fix anything.”

Rosaline stands up at that, feeling the certainty run back through her body. It was time to stop second guessing everything, to let go. She wanted Benvolio, but it was more than that. She _needed_ him. Her life had become unquestionably better since he had become a steady presence; even when they fought or simply sat side by side, even when it was nothing more than moans and heavy breaths—they were good.

“I have to go.”

* * *

Rosaline kisses Benvolio when he opens the door before realizing how confusing that might be. It felt romantic in her head, but then she remembers that they already kiss plenty on a regular basis. It’s not really the best sort of love declaration.

“What the fuck, Rosaline?” he asks as he pulls back, taking a step away from her. “I can’t do this goddamn whiplash tonight, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she says desperately as she steps through the door. It’s the stretch of her voice that makes him pause and eye her curiously. “There was just… Can I take you on a date?”

He raises an eyebrow. “A date?”

She nods. “I can pay. A date. No sex involved.”

His lip curves up at the edge, and he finally shuts the door behind her. “So, sex is entirely off the table then?”

“I mean, it doesn’t _have_ to be, but I’m trying to make a romantic gesture here, Ben. You don’t have to be so goddamn–”

Benvolio intercepts her words with a kiss to her lips. Rosaline thought she had kissed Benvolio every way there was to kiss him, but this is entirely new. The way his hands cup her cheeks like she is something too delicate, too precious to crack. Their lips move in tandem slowly and tenderly. This feels like _love,_ she realizes after a minute.

“You got the ‘this is more than sex’ thing, right?” Rosaline asks after they pull back, her forehead resting against his cheek. “I just want to make sure we’re clear.”

“Yes, Capulet. You made that clear,” he says with a chuckle. “But I would like to finish what we started earlier, if you don’t mind…”

Rosaline smirks, feeling the warmth of his smile and laugh and love spread through her like fire. “I definitely don’t mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: [clarkescrusade](http://clarkescrusade.tumblr.com/)


End file.
